


time, curious time

by onthelasttrain



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Teen Pregnancy, teenage!lorelai gilmore, teenage!luke danes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27981618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onthelasttrain/pseuds/onthelasttrain
Summary: “Now I’m sure Lorelai wasn’t thinking straight. Now with a clear head, she would have run right to Christopher the minute she found out. Wouldn’t you have?” It’s not a question, but it still demands an answer.“Yeah,” she says. The word ‘yeah’ has never been falser in its life. Even in her most rational headspace, she still would have run to Luke given the choice.lorelai thinks her life is over when she gets pregnant. and so she runs, runs to the one person who has never let her down. suffice to say, he still doesn't
Relationships: Emily Gilmore & Lorelai Gilmore, Lorelai Gilmore & Richard Gilmore, Luke Danes/Lorelai Gilmore
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> you ever get a fic idea that you like /so/ much you don't even wait until you've finished the show to write it and you put aside your other wips to write it? because yeah.
> 
> so a bit of background, this is set in a universe where lorelai and luke knew each other as kids/teenagers and became best friends after they met when her family spent a weekend in star's hollow. maybe I'll write that fic one day. but for today, enjoy this.

She runs.

As soon as she sees that pink line, she runs. She bursts out of the cubicle she’s in, just about remembering to shove everything back in her bag and bolts to the door, not even registering the disgusted stars of the other girls in the bathroom, let alone caring about them. The world around her grows more and more distorted and unnatural with each step she takes, the hallway seeming to stretch like it does in a nightmare, intending to keep her trapped in her forever.

She does manage to break free, pushing the door open and immediately being met with a blast of cold air and rain. Despite her desperation, she stops for a minute and soaks it in, lets it cool her skin and lets the rain mix with the tears on her face. It’ll be a good disguise for them if anyone can stop her long enough to ask. Ask her why she’s crying, what’s in her bag, why was she in the bathroom for so long. All questions she has an answer to, but the answer catches in her throat and cuts her mouth.

She starts running again before she can start thinking, her legs carrying her over the courtyard and out the school gates, turning the first corner without even thinking. Her brain is on autopilot now, following a directionless route with only one destination; away. Through the blur, she sees a bus stop, and her hand is in her pocket digging out change. Always carry money Lorelai, her father had told her once, in at least three currencies too, you never know. She only has dollars, but dollars are all she needs, and if she had to listen to him once, she’s glad it was on this.

The bus driver doesn’t ask questions, but he does raise an eyebrow at the sight; the girl in the fancy school uniform, puffy red eyes the same shade as her tie, heaving and panting and choking back tears before she eventually gets out two words.

“Stars Hollow,” and then because she’s not an animal, “Please.”

She doesn’t sit down; her body is so tense it may snap in half if she tried. Instead she wraps one hand around a pole and watches the world pass by while she stands still. Watches houses grow bigger and grander until they stop and start going backwards. From sixteen windows at the front, to twelve, to ten, to eight. From four cars in the driveway down to three, and then the pitiful number two. From eight prize shrubs in the front lawn down to six and then to four. It calms her, watching them get smaller. It must be about the counting, she rationalises. She watches as the houses get smaller and smaller and then disappears altogether, until they drive past that big old brass sign and Hartford is no more.

She breathes easier at that, and even more so when the sign for Stars Hollow comes into view.

She jumps off the bus and bids a thank you to the driver before she does. He studies her for a moment before he closes the doors, a flicker of concern in his eyes. She’s not worried, not about him anyway. He couldn’t pick her parents out a line-up and even if he could, he wouldn’t.

She turns around, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. The weight still sits heavily in her jacket pocket and it burns like a live grenade. Who knew something so small and so pretty in the store could cause so much damage?

She knows where she’s heading. She knew the second she got off the bus. She moves hurriedly down the streets, weaving in and out of locals and passing by the market. Some people wave at her, either out of a vague recognition or just being friendly, but she appreciates it all the same. She’d appreciate it more if she didn’t have this weight dragging her down.

It’s not long at all before she finds herself across the street from the hardware store, and that’s when she freezes. She feels selfish, running to him like this. Even if he’s said his door is open for anything, whatever she needs. Even if he’s the only person she can trust with this, with almost anything. Dragging him into this feels wrong. He’s not from her world, he doesn’t know anyone involved aside from her. What is she doing getting him into this, not least before her parents know. Hell, before Christ even knows. It would be proper to tell him. It would have been proper to do the test in front of him, for them to sit hand-in-hand while waiting for the results, and then announce it to her parents.

Now is a weird time for her to start caring about propriety.

She gives up and runs across the road. It’s a good thing that the roads are nearly empty, since she’s barely able to pay attention to anything. She turns the handle and the little bell jingles, announcing her arrival to William. He looks up, confused at her presence, but then he takes in her rumpled hair, the tear tracks on her face, the desperation in her eyes, and he softens in an instant.

“Is Luke here?” she asks in a broken voice.

“Luke!” he bellows by way of an answer. “Lorelai’s here.” William, like her, has never been one for formality, and she likes that about him. He studies her as she hovers next to the doorway, cold air seeping through and biting at her back, all the while Luke’s footsteps can be heard from upstairs.

“You coming in or getting out?” he asks her. It’s gruff and blunt, and yet it’s more comforting than anything she’s heard from her own house. So with the barest, faintest hint of a smile on her face, she steps further into the shop, her arms still wrapped around herself, just as Luke appears in the doorway. His sweatshirt is at least a size too big for him and his hair is messy and dishevelled. He slows down when he sees her, his eyes moving to his father just for a second, if even, before he looks back at her, confusion clouding the blue.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I need to talk to you.” She sniffles and her eyes blur. It’s only through her last strands of dignity that she doesn’t burst into waterworks right in front of William. “Somewhere private.”

He stand behind her as they walk up the stairs, hands just slightly out as though he thinks she’s fall. She may well, her legs weak as they are, exhausted by the running and from carrying this secret around this past week. She may have only officially found out today, but deep down, didn’t she always know?

He leads her into his room, closing the door tightly behind him. His room is small, a third of what her room is, if even, and cluttered beyond belief; comic books stacked in the corner and notes and textbooks littered on the desk, clothes strewn on the floor on their way to the crowded laundry hamper, his old boardgames sitting in a tipped-over pile. Luke’s room isn’t tidy on a good day and this is definitely not one of the good days; the covers are half on the bed and half thrown across the floor and the Star Trek poster on his ceiling is only hanging on by one corner now. Not to mention the half-full plate and gay old mug sitting on the desk. It’s small and messy and cramped, but she likes it. With the glow of the lamp on his desk and that familiar air about her, she feels safe.

“Sorry, I uh…” He runs around her and rushes to the bed, throwing the covers on properly and adjusting the pillows before moving onto the clothes. “I didn’t really expect company tonight.”

“It’s fine,” she says. She looks at the desk and points weakly, her other arm still wrapped around herself. “You were doing homework?”

“Oh it’s fine,” he says with a shrug. “I was almost finished; I can get it done later.”

“No.” She shakes her head, wiping her eyes hastily, her mind spinning again, only her body stands still and she’s engulfed in the tornado of her thoughts. “No, it’s fine, you’re busy, I shouldn’t have come. I should have called, why didn’t I call first?”

“Lorelai?”

“I should have called first and made sure you weren’t busy! That you weren’t doing homework, you know homework is important Luke, that’s how you keep all the stuff you learned at school. You know how you get into a good college? You do your homework. I’m here with-with my own stupid problems and I came here because… I don’t know but I didn’t even think about you and your college plans and your future and I’m here stopping you from having a future because I interrupted your homework.” She takes a gulp of air and almost chokes on her. Her face is hot, burning hot, and sweat pricks at her back. “I’m sorry I should just-”

“Woah wait-” His hand closes around her wrist just as she’s turning to leave and even with her back to him, she can feel the weight of his eyes on her. She may as well have a mirror in front of her. She knows damn well he has that face on, those big wide blue eyes begging her to tell him what’s wrong. “Lorelai… what’s going on?”

She bites the inside of her cheek as she feels the tide rising inside her. Wordlessly, she slips her wrist through his hand and laces their fingers together, running her fingers over his knuckles. She’s spent seven years holding his hand and it’s never failed to calm her down, no matter whether it was a failed test or a torn dress or just Richard and Emily driving her crazy. She’s glad to see that that hasn’t changed.

His hand is still in hers when she turns around, his grip steady and warm to her icy fingers. She doesn’t look at him though, instead looking past him to the window, out at the glorious view of the town’s main street.

“You know I nearly climbed in through your window tonight,” she whispers, nodding to it. “Thought it might have been easier than trying to get past your dad.” She shakes her head at herself and slowly, her trembling hand comes to rest on her stomach. “But it wouldn’t be a good idea in my condition.”

“Your condition?” he echoes. His hand tightens around hers ad his jaw sets. “Lorelai, did someone do something to you?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What happened-are you sick?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of,” he says, slowly growing exasperated. That almost, almost brings a smile to her face, as annoying Luke often does, but it’s a tiny break in this rainstorm she’s in. “Lorelai, what is it? Come on, you know you can tell me anything.”

“Yeah.” It’s the truth. Before today there was nothing in the world she couldn’t imagine not telling Luke. And in a roundabout way, she guesses there still isn’t. Even if it feels like it’s being ripped right out of her. Even if saying it out loud makes her feel like she’s standing on a cliff, facing the great abyss, and waiting for someone to push. “Luke… I messed up.”

“Okay,” he says. “So, so you fought with your parents again? If you need to stay the night, that’s fine. It’s not like you haven’t before. I’ll get the futon and you can call your parents and-”

“I’m pregnant.”

He stops talking; his mouth in the exact same position, but the words grinding to a screeching halt. She keeps her eyes on him, unable to move. He nods slowly, digesting it. Funny how two little words can hold so much. Can come in and wreck her life. Not just hers.

For what seems like an eternity, it’s just them and the ticking clock. Then he finds his voice, and he asks “how?”.

“Okay I know you say your school is underfunded, but I take it you at least have a biology class,” she says. “You know. The birds and the bees. The planting of the seed. When a mommy and daddy lo-”

She stops right there and lets him fill in the blanks instead.

“So you… And…” His eyes widen again as another realisation slams into him. “You and Christopher?”

“Yeah,” she nods. She shoves her hands in her pockets, her shoulders so tight they may snap. “I take it you don’t want the dirty details.

“Absolutely not,” he says. He doesn’t say anything, just tugs on her hand and leads her to his bed, sitting her down and grabbing an extra blanket from the bottom. “You were shaking,” he says as he drapes it around her shoulders.

“Thanks.” She balls it up in her fists, the fabric coarse and rough. He leans forwards on his elbows, his chin resting on his hand. “Luke, I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For coming to you with this,” she says. “I just… I don’t know. I did the test and I had to tell someone.” She scoffs. “And it wasn’t going to be my parents.”

“I wouldn’t expect so,” he says.

“They’re going to kill me,” she says. “And then Christopher, probably. Then resurrect me to give me a lecture and then kill me again.” She pulls her knees up to her chest, her heart beating frantically against them. Her nails dig into her legs like miniature knives. Her head spins faster and faster again, making her feel breathless and dizzy. “Oh my god!”

“Oh, okay, breathe,” he tells her. “Here, here.” His hand is on her back, the other around her knees, and he moves closer to her. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Luke, how can you say that?” she asks, and the tears are freefalling now, running uncontrollably down her face. “How can you tell me I’m going to be okay? I’m pregnant! I’m sixteen and I’m pregnant and my parents are going to be furious. More than furious!”

“I know, I know,” he says, his voice both hurried and soft. “But it’s….” He sighs. “Look, I got nothing.”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I don’t think anyone would.” She turns toward him, just a little bit, and as fate would have it, her head is on his shoulder. Nothing they haven’t done before. Not like it means anything. She allows herself to be selfish for a minute, to sag against him and take all the comfort he’s willing to give.

“I’m scared.” Not just of telling her parents, but of everything after. Of the growing, the stares, the pain. Oh god the pain. “Do you think childbirth hurts that much?”

“I don’t think my mom had too many fond memories of it,” he murmurs into her hair. She sobs into his chest and he lets her, his hand running up and down her arm. “You haven’t told your parents I take it.”

“No.” She wriggles her arm free and reaches into her pocket, clutching the test in her hand. “I don’t know how to. I did the test in the bathroom at school and I-I bolted.” She presses her cheek into his chest. “Not my finest moment.”

“Eh, we’re all allowed to have our bad days,” he says.

“And I didn’t know where to go. So I came here.” She sniffles weakly. “Sorry I interrupted you.”

“It’s fine. I don’t even like that school much anyway, you know that.” She manages to nod at that. His arms tighten around her and she feels his chin resting on her hair. And in that mess of limbs, her hand once again rests on her stomach. She should hate it, she thinks. If it’s scaring her that much, shouldn’t she hate it? Want rid of it? Yet whenever she touches it, she feels this weird calm come over her. If it were just the two of them it would be so much simpler. “So, you want to stay over? We don’t even have to call your folks.”

“Just let them think I ran away,” she replies. It’s a good idea, if just for the fact that she craves Luke’s comfort and the scape Stars Hollow gives her. She wants to take the easy, or easier, route and say yes. But instead “no.” She untangles herself from him, her shirt creased and wrinkled from where she pressed herself against him. “That’s just delaying the inevitable. I have to tell them at some point, right?”

He nods, his eyes solemn and his hand still on her back. Keeping her grounded.

“You want me to come with you?”

She’s almost certain she misheard him. He keeps looking at her expectantly for as long as it takes for his offer to sink in with her. And when it does, she’s more grateful for him than she’s ever been in her life.

“You’d do that?” she asks.

“Sure,” he shrugs. “Not like I have anything else planned and… you look like you could use it.” And in every single sense of the world, she is speechless. Lorelai Gilmore, well-known motor mouth and expert shit-talker, is speechless.

Words aren’t necessary when you can hug though, and oh god she does. Jumps on him and hugs him with every ounce of strength until they’re both lying on the bed together, her face in the crook of his neck and her legs circling his.

She likes to imagine the little bean is hugging him too.

They take Luke’s truck, his dad surprisingly fine with the idea. Not surprising to Luke maybe, but it is to Lorelai. She’s so used to “where are you going, who will you be with, what will you be doing is that really what you’re wearing” that William’s casual response is a shock to her.

But she doesn’t miss the silent communication between father and son, the look William gives her and then Luke and the minute nod Luke gives him in return. She pretends not to, averting her eyes as she and Luke hurry out the door, but she’s more than thankful for it.

The drive to her house is quiet, even with he radio on in Luke’s truck. He keeps his eyes on the road and she keeps hers on the dashboard, not blinking until her eyes burn and then starting the cycle again. He sneaks glances at her, his mouth opening and closing a dozen times before he finally says something.

“Are you sure you’re pregnant?”

“Luke!”

“I mean,” he shrugs. “Maybe it was a false positive. It happens, you know. I mean… it happened to Liz. Not every pregnancy test is perfect.”

“Well I did three,” she sighs. “Two in the bathroom at home and one at school.” She drags her hand across her face and props her head up. “And they all came back positive.”

“Oh,” is his answer and he keeps driving. They left Stars Hollow ages ago, and they should be closing in on Hartford even if it’s too dark to see. She wishes this road would expand, and it could just be her and Luke driving down this dark expanse forever. Wouldn’t be so bad she reasons. “And it’s Christopher’s?”

“Yep,” she answers. “I might be the Gilmore family disappointment but I’m no cheater.”

“You’re no disappointment, Lor,” he says, but it’s hollow. He’s been in her house enough times to feel the tension between her and her parents. But his free hand crosses the distance between them and wraps around hers. “Not to me.”

He doesn’t park in her parents’ drive, rather pulls up a little outside the house, where the car would be hidden by hedges. He jumps out and, when it’s clear she’s not budging, runs around to her side and opens the door for her, even extending his hand to her.

“Gentleman,” she teases.

“Well I’m with the highbrows now,” he says. “Gotta blend in right?” She nods and looks over at her house. Her body freezes from the inside out, like her heart is made of ice and is pumping it around her system. She’s already in trouble for being late. She hasn’t even dropped the bombshell and she’s grounded for at least a week for this. She doesn’t know how she’ll get the words out of her mouth. Or even form in her brain. She presses herself further into the seat like it can make her disappear altogether.

“Luke,” she whispers. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can,” he says softly and he steps closer, his eyes hardening. “And even if you can’t, you have to. You can’t hide this from them forever Lorelai.”

“I could run away,” she suggests. “Break in when they’re asleep, grab my stuff and just run. Take a bus and go anywhere I want.” She looks at him, almost convinced herself. “What do you think of that?”

“You could,” he admits. There’s a little hint of sadness in his voice. “Definitely. But would you?”

She takes a deep breath. He’s right. She could do that, grab a bag and head off somewhere unknown, change her name and start a new life, her and it. Just them, never seeing anyone from their old life ever again. She thinks she could do it; she knows more than people give her credit for and there’s jobs a-plenty if you know where to look.

But one look at him tells her she wouldn’t. She’d miss too many people.

Besides, she wouldn’t last.

“Fine,” she breathes, and she grabs his hand and lets him walk her up to her front door. She clings to him until her knuckles turn white, her lifeboat.

“At some point, I’ll buy you a drink for this,” she whispers as she slides her key in the lock.

He doesn’t answer, but he smiles.

“Lorelai, oh my God!” is the first thing she hears when they enter. As usual, Emily Gilmore is seen after she’s heard, powering into the foyer with the righteous fury of Napoleon marching into battle. The phrase ‘she’s going to kill me’ inches closer to literal rather than figurative when she comes in, her blazing eyes ready to smite Lorelai where she stands.

“Where the hell were you?” she demands. Her voice echoes off the wall and hits Lorelai three, four times in the chest. “Do you have any idea how worried we were? I called your school, they said you were gone. I called Straub and Francine; they hadn’t seen you! I called every friend you have; do you know how humiliating that was for me Lorelai? Do you know how it felt to admit that I had no idea where my daughter had gone to?”

“I’m sorry-”

“I didn’t know whether you were dead or alive!” she goes on, her voice getting higher and more frantic with every word. Coupled with her wild arm movements, she looks more like a crazy bird than her mother. “I didn’t know if you’d been hit by a car or kidnapped or-or I don’t know what!” Her teeth are gritted by the time she’s finished, like she’s ready to rip her head off. “You better have a damn good explanation for this young lady.”

“I was in Stars Hollow,” she says and she gestures beside her. “With Luke. I was fine.” Her mother blinks and looks at him, clearly only now registering him. She stammers and if she can blush, Lorelai bets she would have. “I was okay.”

“Well.” Her demeanour is much calmer now, but the anger still simmers underneath. “You could have called at least.” She turns to Luke then and gives her a smile. “Thank you for taking her home Luke. Care to join us for dinner? Philippa always makes too much of anything.”

“You going to fire her over it?” Lorelai asks.

“Well aren’t you a brave woman given the circumstances?” she asks. The difference between her tone with Luke and her tone with Lorelai is staggering. “Come on, Luke, I’ll have place set.”

“That sounds great Mrs Gilmore,” he begins. “But-”

“Mom I need to talk to you,” she says. “And Dad. You and Dad. Together, preferably.”

“Well if you wanted to talk you should have come home to discuss it,” she says. “And I’m sure Luke doesn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever it is.”

Luke squeezes her hand, a reminder that he isn’t going anywhere.

“No Mom, I need to talk to you now.” She follows her into the living room, Luke in tow, and finds her dad sitting in his chair. He sighs deeply at the sight of her and his frown lines are so pronounced she fears they may be permanent. Her heart is in her mouth now and her stomach twists and turns painfully. The rom starts spinning. “Mom it’s important.”

“Well all right,” she says and she turns and sits on the little couch, looking at her expectantly. “Richard, Lorelai says there’s something she needs to tell us.”

“I hope it’s a good reason as to why she was home so late without telling us,” he says gruffly. “Ah, hello, Luke.”

“Hey there, Mr Gilmore,” Luke greets, giving an awkward wave. All eyes turn to Lorelai then, and it suffocates her. This would be the part where she considers turning and running if she could move her feet at all. Instead, her hand travels to her pocket achingly slowly and she takes the test, that damn test, out and tosses it on the table. It clatters among the fine silverware.

They look at it, all four of them, like they’re waiting for it to do something.

“Lorelai,” Emily says, her voice low. “What is that thing?”

“It’s a-” Her voice catches, and she holds Luke’s hand tighter. “It’s a pregnancy test. A positive one.” She swallows past the lump in her throat just as her knees are about to buckle. It’s a testament to her willpower that she’s still standing “And it’s mine.”

There’s one second where nothing happens, where her parents absorb the news and Lorelai tries and fails to breathe.

Then the unexpected happens. Her dad raises his head and looks at them, and if she thought her mom was angry, he is downright furious. But not at her.

“YOU!” he bellows and he marches right up to Luke, grabbing the front of his jacket so forcefully his hand is ripped out of Lorelai’s. He almost lifts Luke off the ground, spitting right into his terrified face. “You did this? You got my daughter pregnant!”

“Dad!” she cries. “Dad no!”

“I didn’t-I-I swear it wasn’t, it’s not like that, we’re not like that.” Luke’s words tumble out one after the other, breathless and terrified. “I would never-”

“Oh it’s not like that, I see what it’s like,” her dad seethes. “You are very lucky we’re not in my day boy, otherwise I would have you thrown out of the house and I would be wrapping you and your family up in so many lawsuits your grandchildren would be paying reparations.”

“No.” Luke’s eyes grow wide, his mouth hanging open. “No, no sir please.”

“Dad, stop it,” Lorelai begs again. “Let him go.”

“Oh Lorelai, don’t think I won’t come to you,” he hisses. “What on Earth will Christopher think when he hears this? What do you think Christopher will want to do to him?”

“Given that it’s his kid, probably not much,” she yells. Her throat is raw from the screaming and tears run down her face, hot and burning and angry this time. “Now put him down!”

Her father’s mouth falls open slowly, but he does what she asks and Luke staggers way, gasping like he’d just come out of the water. Lorelai manages to throw her dad another glare before focussing on him, her hand cupping his face.

“Hey, look at me. Are you okay?” she asks.

“Fine,” he says. He straightens up and lowers his voice. “Remind me never to get on your dad’s bad side.” She chuckles, a brief reprieve before-

“Lorelai!” Her mother strides towards them, arms across her chest and eyes shifting from her to her dad. Beside each other, matching stern looks, they look more like one entity than they do two individuals. “Alright, so it’s not Luke’s, it’s Christopher’s. That’s one hurdle cleared. I assume he knows.”

“Who knows?”

“Christopher,” she snaps. Lorelai suppresses a groan. In all that chaos, she forgot to tell the one person who more than anyone deserved it. She steps away from Luke, her hands falling to her side as Emily gasps. “You didn’t tell him?”

“I just found out!” she squeaks. “I was scared, and I was confused, and I still am-”

“But you had time to take a bus to Stars Hollow and tell Luke?” she asks. “Tell Luke, who isn’t involved in this at all, before you told Christopher that you’re pregnant?” Emily scoffs, actually scoffs and shakes her head at her. “I do not understand you, Lorelai.”

“Yeah no kidding,” she mutters.

“What did you say?”

“What’s done it done,” Richard interjects. “Now I’m sure Lorelai wasn’t thinking straight. Now with a clear head, she would have run right to Christopher the minute she found out. Wouldn’t you have?” It’s not a question, but it still demands an answer.

“Yeah,” she says. The word ‘yeah’ has never been falser in its life. Even in her most rational headspace, she still would have run to Luke given the choice.

“Now, the next item on the agenda is to tell Christopher isn’t it?” he asks. His gaze is laser-focussed on Lorelai and she squirms. “And then we can call Straub and Francine and work out what to do in this unfortunate predicament.”

“I guess,” she mumbles.

“That sounds reasonable,” Luke says at the same time. Richard looks at him as though he’d forgotten he was in the room. He probably had, really.

“Thank you, Luke,” he says. “And thank you for taking care of Lorelai for us.”

“It was nothing,” he says and then he looks at her. “She’s my friend.” Despite everything, those words make Lorelai feel warm inside, the comfortable, golden kind of warmth.

“Yes well.” He clears his throat. “I think it best if you leave this to us to discuss. This is indeed a family matter.”

“Oh.” Luke shifts beside her and he slowly pulls his hand out of hers. It feels empty without it, without him tethering to Earth. “Um, yeah, okay, I’ll…” He turns to her. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Hey…” She grabs his arms and looks up at him, trying so hard to hold it together. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Any time,” he tells her. “But you do owe me that drink.” She chuckles and, throwing out the rules, hugs him tightly, in front of her parents. She squeezes until she can’t any more, dreading the moment where she has to let him go.

******

Luke picks up after the third ring. She’s sitting on her bed, laying on her side with one of her pillows in her arm and judging by the background noise-the fuzzy voices from his dad’s TV and stiff conversations between his dad and Liz-she guesses he’s in his living room.

“Hey,” he greets warmly.

“Not interrupting anything am I?” she asks.

“Oh just some movie my dad claims is a masterpiece,” he sighs. “I suspect we’re five minutes away from him and Liz disagreeing and huffing off in other directions.” She hears the door click closed behind him, and they’re alone. “So what’s up?”

“I…” She closes her eyes and hugs the pillow closer to her chest. “I told Chris.”

“Oh,” he responds. “And how’d he take it?”

“He um… took it.” She shakes her head. “No I’m being mean. He took it pretty well.” Or as well as a high school junior can take finding out he got his girlfriend pregnant. He’s not a bad guy, Chris. He’s just not ready for this and neither is she. But after the freak out, he was okay. “There’s more.”

“Oh no.”

“I told him yesterday,” she explains. “And then he went home and told his parents. And then his parents and my parents all got into a room together to talk about it. About us.” Her jaw clenches at the memory; their parents discussing a future that they don’t own. Deciding where they’ll live, what they’ll do, how they’ll get by. How it will get by. “There were a lot of options. One involved sending me off to an institution. Or a nunnery.”

“No nunnery would take you,” Luke replies. She huffs a laugh at that.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s all decided now.” She shifts onto her back and as she does so, the walls and roof close in on her, trapping her inside. She doesn’t remember a time where she didn’t feel suffocated in this house, only now it’s set in stone. “We’re getting married.”

“Oh,” he says again. He’s silent for a while, save for grunts and stammers and half-formed words. “Uh… congratulations?”

“Don’t.” She clenches it fist rightly until the nails dig into her palm; it’s all she can do to keep from screaming. “We’re going to get married and Chris will work for my dad and we’ll live in my parents’ house forever.”

“Not forever,” he tells her. “You know, eventually you guys can make enough money to get your own place, maybe sooner than you think. Maybe you can even move out of Hartford or you can go to college still.” She nods along, but his words barely ring true. He’s trying his best, but he doesn’t get it and she’s glad he doesn’t. “This won’t be forever Lor.”

“Maybe not,” she whispers.

“And hey, worst comes to worst, you and the bambino can come down here and bunk with us.” She pauses and thinks about it for a minute, her and the baby holed up in Luke’s room, like a version of the sleepovers they used to have when they were kids, Luke bouncing the baby and they two of them eating microwaved meals while he does his homework, Emily and Richard having a conniption back home. The idea is so ridiculous that she bursts out laughing and damn, it feels good to do it.

“I might take you up on that,” she replies. “Only if we get our own rooms.” He chuckles on the other end and despite not seeing it, she feels his smile.

“Of course.”

*****

Lorelai swings her feet in the air, sitting perched on the kitchen table. She’s four months now, her bump only noticeable when she’s wearing tight shirts she is now, her sweater thrown to the side as the kitchen warmed up. Luke stands at the stove, a baseball cap sitting backwards on his head and the towel thrown over his shoulder. For someone normally so clumsy and gawky, the way he works in the kitchen is always a marvel to Lorelai. The way he moves is so careful and controlled, carrying himself with a grace that will disappear the minute he steps away. Like it’s just him and the stove and that’s all that exists.

“Are they done yet?” she complains. “I’m hungry. Bambino is hungry.”

“I hope you teach Bambino patience,” he tells her. “Just a few more minutes, we’re nearly ready.”

“The most crucial minutes according to you,” she teases.

“Yeah unless you want your pancakes burnt to a crisp.” He turns down the heat ever-so-slightly. “It’s all about patience, Lorelai.” He picks up a plate and Lorelai’s toe tingle with excitement. “You better be sitting still,” he tells her. “You know you’re bad luck around a stove.”

“Aye, aye captain,” she says and she forces her body to be as rigid as can be. There’s not a lot she’d do this for, but his pancakes are always worth it.

“Lorelai?”

Lorelai curses under her breath and turns to see her mom standing in the doorway, looking from her to Luke and waiting for an explanation.

“I told you Luke was coming to hang out,” she says.

“Yes.”

“And I wanted pancakes,” she goes on. “And we had things to make pancakes. So… Luke made pancakes.”

“I see,” Emily says. “Well if you wanted pancakes you should have asked Erica to make you some. I’m sure Lucas doesn’t want to feel put out here.”

“Oh it’s no problem Mrs Gilmore,” he reassures her. “Besides, Erica was busy in the garden.”

“Yeah and besides, she doesn’t make them like Luke does,” Lorelai explains, just as a plate is pressed into her hands. She looks down and her breath is taken away at the sight; golden, thick and drizzled with syrup. Her mouth waters and she can barely take it anymore. “He makes them really fluffy.”

“It’s a family recipe,” he says. “Care for some, Mrs Gilmore? I’ll be happy to pay for anything you need replaced.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” she says. “Enjoy yourselves. Just clean up when you’re done.” She turns to leave, spinning on the heel of her dainty black shoe. “Oh and Lorelai, don’t forget tomorrow we’re going to lunch with Straub, Francine and Christopher. You will be there won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” she says, her tone Emily’s least favourite brand of cheerful sarcasm. She flounces away, off to rearrange some flowers that don’t need it, and Lorelai turns to Luke, her eyebrow raised. It wasn’t just a reminder about the lunch, it was a reminder for her to enjoy her time while she can. In less than a year, she’s Christopher’s and theirs, til death do they part.

She must look as scared as she feels, because Luke slides another pancake onto her plate and winks at her.

“For Bambino,” he says.

*****

She’s always liked the square in Stars Hollow. Ever since she first came here with her parents, all of ten years old, her parents liking the idea of escaping to a sweet small town for a long weekend. One of the few family vacations she didn’t dislike. She likes it because out of every place in the town, this is where that closeness feels strongest. Luke complains about his town, how everyone knows everyone and how a secret doesn’t stay a secret for more than two days. And she understands, but she can’t not be enchanted by it. In Hartford, people know each other but there isn’t a sense of community. Her parents will have lunch with people in the afternoon and spend the evening complaining about it. Here, it doesn’t feel like that. Here if you dislike someone, you say it to their face and know they’d still have your back if you needed it.

She and Luke sit in the gazebo, side by side on the bench, a warm bag of pastries from the bakery sitting in between them. It’s more on Lorelai’s lap than it is on his, but it’s a big bag and as she reminded him earlier, she’s eating for two.

“Okay, what about… Nathaniel?” she suggests.

“Too preppy,” Luke replies.

“Yeah well he’ll be going to a prep school,” she reminds him. “He’d have to have a preppy name.” In her hand she holds a notebook, pen and a list of her family’s names, while Luke holds a baby name book and a list of Chris’ family names in his. There’s three lists in her book, ‘definitely yes’, ‘maybe’ and ‘definitely not’, all divided into boy and girl categories. They hadn’t even sat down before she put ‘Straub and Francine’ in the definitely not list.

“I’m not punishing the kid with names like that,” she had told him, and Luke had laughed.

“Yeah but there’s preppy and then there’s obnoxious preppy,” he replies. “Besides, I’m not sure I could stop myself from making fun of a kid named Nathaniel.”

“Don’t you listen to him,” she whispers. “Someone isn’t getting a painted Christmas card next year.”

“However will I survive?” he asks dryly. “Oh here, what about Alistair? I mean that sounds kind of cool, no?”

“Hm, kind of,” she admits. “Or scary. Like a snake should be coiled around his arm and I’ll walk in to find him plotting his teddy bear’s demise.” She lowers her voice and puts on her best bad English accent. “So now that I have you Mr Bear, you will tell me all I need to know, or you will watch your beloved, Miss Bunny, suffer a most terrible fate.” She turns back to Luke, her smile bright. “You know?”

“I most definitely do not,” he says. “Do you know what it’s going to be yet?”

“Nah,” she says. “Mom says she doesn’t want to know. Neither does Chris. Everyone says they’re fine with whatever, boy or girl, and I am too, but…” Her voice trails off, her cheeks growing warm. Luke raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth turning up into a cheeky grin that gently coaxes it out of her. “I have a feeling it’s a girl.”

“You do?”

“It’s dumb, I know,” she sighs. “It’s just… I can’t explain it. Like when I think about it, I think of it being a her.” She shakes her head. “Like I said, dumb, right?”

“No,” he says. “What’s dumb is that we’ve spent the past twenty minutes looking at boy names when your mothers’ intuition says it’s a girl.” He looks at the bag beside them. “And we’re out of pastries too.”

“How did that happen?”

“How did that happen?” he mocks. “You and Bambino, sorry, Bambina, chomping away at them.”

“I do not chomp!” she says. “I am a lady and as such, ladies do not chomp.”

“Whatever,” he says, but he’s laughing too. “I’ll head over to the market and get us some sandwiches so you don’t lie when you tell your parents you ate an actual meal today. Anything in particular?”

“Surprise me.” She watches him head off down the square, half jogging across the grass in a shortcut to the market and shakes her head fondly before looking back down at the names.

And out of nowhere she’s hit with the idea of how nice it would be to raise her child here. To take her for tricycle rides around these grounds and buy her cereal from the market and send her to the dance school operating in the barn. To have her child grow up rosy-cheeked and breathless, surrounded by people who know and care about her, making easy friends and most importantly, living without restrictions or expectations or crazy customs. Just being her, and whoever that is will be entirely up to her.

And she could live here, in this town she wishes was her home. Start completely anew, break out of the chains imposed on her. She’d just be Lorelai here, Lorelai no-one. Not answering to anybody or conforming to anything. Building herself up little by little, shaping her future into whatever she wants it to be.

Luke is in this fantasy too of course. It’s only fitting that he is, having known her from her first conception near enough. Lorelai doesn’t see a future for her child that doesn’t involve him anyway, but to grow up here, knowing daily his warmth and his steadfast nature, seems like one of the best things she could give her.

It’s a bittersweet fantasy, she thinks. But it might be the one that keeps her sane in these coming months.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I know I said I'd have part 2 up earlier but.... things happened. just christmas happened and writing sort of fell to the side. anyway, enjoy!

Her water breaks while she’s watching TV and she gets her answer; childbirth really hurts.

The cab visibly driver pales when he sees her condition, and what he sees is her holding back. Her nails scratch against the leather seating and tear right through it, btu since the alternative is her screaming in the back of the car, he doesn’t get mad at her. He doesn’t charge her for the ride either, instead wishing her good luck, and Lorelai’s faith in humanity soars in that moment.

When she gets there she’s told to wait, and the more she waits the more it hurts. She prepared for this, she brought her Walkman and headphones to pass the time, but The Who can only help her for so long, and soon all she can think about is the squeezing in her stomach and the shockwaves it sends throughout her body. She takes big, greedy gulps of air and blushes when people turn and look at her. Some of the looks are concerned and kind, and some are less so. They roll their eyes at her and shake their heads and make a point of reading the same page of their newspaper over and over again. Well, the last thing she’d ever want to do is ruin someone’s tranquil time in a hospital waiting room. In the minute before a nurse comes over and tells her they’re ready for her, her patience snaps and she flips off particularly bothered man who’s been glaring daggers at her for the past five minutes.

She can’t say that it feels bad.

In the delivery room is where her final defences slip away, and the stream of curse words she’s been holding back for hours finally escapes her, as do the tears. If her mom were in here she’d have a heart attack at the language. Maybe she can still hear her, sitting on the other side of the wall. If anyone could, it would be Emily Gilmore.

She doesn’t regret not letting her mom in here. This room is intense enough without her mother walking around snapping at people, finding things to complain about. She read in one of the book she got from the library that there should be as few things to stress the mother as possible, and her mom tops the stressful things list.

But bizarrely… she wishes she was in here with her. Or rather, she wishes she wanted her in here. That Emily was different, that they were different, and she had run right to her when she found out when she was pregnant. And that she was in here now, stroking her hair and telling her she was going to be okay. And it was her hand she was holding, not the hand of this nurse who, lovely as she is, isn’t her mom.

Something runs down her face and she can’t tell if it’s sweat or a tear.

“Okay, we’re nearly there now,” the doctor tells her. “You’re going to have to start pushing now okay?”

“Do I have to?” she asks. She doesn’t know if she can. Her body feels deflated, every last ounce of energy drained from her. She couldn’t push a shopping cart, let alone a baby. “Can’t we skip that part?”

“Afraid not, Lorelai,” he says. “Just take a deep breath. We’re nearly there.”

“Yeah you said,” she says, but it’s too quiet for him to hear. She takes a deep breath and squares herself. Pushing can’t be as bad as what she feels now, and so she pushes, her body shaking as she does. Her hair sticks to her face and she chokes on something. She looks up, somehow optimistic that it’s over. That she can hold her.

But it isn’t, of course. The doctor nods and smiles, but he utters the dreaded words ‘that was good, a few more’. She chokes out a sob. She can’t do this. She can’t do any of this.

But she has to. So she braces herself and pushes and pushes and pushes, her breathing deep and ragged and her heart pounding against her chest, in her ears, and she pushes and pushes, the sound of shouting and talking and whispering and panting building to a crescendo until one little cry cuts above the rest.

And that’s all she can hear. That one wailing, scared, beautiful cry is the only sound in the world that matters to her.

“Congratulations,” the doctor says, and he’s laughing. “It’s a girl.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I know.”

He walks around to her with this little thing against his chest, a little arm stuck in the air and it howls like a wolf. Lorelai can’t blame her. She had quite the trip here.

He places her in her arms, and it takes all of a second for her to know she’d do anything for her. This little person, this little, tiny person, holds her entire heart in those impossibly small hands. She blinks and this time she knows for a fact it’s tears running down her cheeks.

“Oh my God,” she whispers. Her daughter is covered in stuff, blood and gunk and she doesn’t even want to know what else and she’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen in her life. “Shit. Sorry-” she winces, and she covers her little ears with her hand. She shares a sheepish look with the doctor, who only smiles, and looks back at her daughter. “Guess I need to watch my language now, huh?” She moves her blanket just slightly, and as one hand wraps around her whole finger, she figures it’s a small price to pay.

******

“She’s pretty,” Chris says.

Lorelai holds back a scoff. ‘Pretty’ is too weak a word for her daughter. Flowers are pretty. Sunsets are pretty. Rome is pretty. Her daughter is more than that.

“She’s perfect,” she replies. She wishes he’d agree with her, but he doesn’t. Instead he says,

“So I guess we should get married.”

Lorelai looks down. She didn’t like the idea before but now, with Rory, she’s not going through with it. Simple as. It’s one thing to trap herself but it’s another to trap her in a house with two parents who only love each other for other people’s sakes.

“I’ll go get you some coffee,” he tells her. She mumbles a ‘thanks’ as he goes before turning her attention back to Rory. Her little head turns from side to side, taking the whole world in. It’s the first time she’s seeing it and what it must be in her eyes. Lorelai presses her hand against the glass, a smile stretching out across her face and her breath fogging up the window.

“Just you wait,” she tells her. “You and me. We’re going to do it. No-one else thinks we can, but we will.” She swallows heavily and sighs. “You’re going to be okay. We both are.” She blows a kiss through the glass and Rory’s wriggles. That means caught it, she knows it does.

“Lorelai?”

Her head snaps up at the sound of her name, her breath leaving her body in a quick, soundless gasp. She’s convinced she’s imagining it, that there’s no way he’s here, standing down the hall with flowers in one hand and the other stuffed in his pocket, looking so completely out of place. But she blinks and he’s still there, and she’s blinking back tears again.

“Luke.” She runs down the hallway, even with the shooting pains in her body, and he meets her halfway as her chest collides with his, her arms thrown around his neck, her face buried in the crook of his neck. She clings to his jacket tightly like he might disappear if she lets go. “What the heck are you doing here?”

“Your mom called,” he says. She pulls away at that, the shock dampening anything else she was feeling.

“My mom?” she echoes.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Just, you know. She called the store and said you were in labour.”

“And you came here?” she asks.

“Got the first bus over,” he grins. And her heart melts where she stands. And the best part is she isn’t even surprised by it. “Okay I did stop off at the store… these are for you…” He presses a bunch of flowers into her arms. "Ta da." 

“Luke,” she sighs. They’re gorgeous, pale red roses and lilac tulips and purple peonies, all neatly and carefully arranged with white tissue paper. “Thank you so much.”

“And… since I figure little Bambina won’t have any use for flowers.” He holds up a small gift bag to her, raising an eyebrow teasingly. She grins and inside she finds a tiny sleepsuit, white, covered with little teddy bears, and impossibly soft between her fingers. It’s perfect and it’s more than enough to make her eyes water again. Damn hormones.

“Thank you Luke,” she says. “She’s going to love it.” She smiles coyly then and reaches her hand out to him. “You want to meet her?”

“I can?” His whole face lights up and she only laughs.

“Of course.” She threads her fingers between and tugs on his arm, making him stumble and follow her down the hall. It’s weird. With Christopher, showing him came with tight tension, her breath held as she watched him, waiting for him to say something and worrying it would be bad. Like he’d take one look at her and turn around. With Luke though, there’s none of that, just giddiness and pride as she pulls him to the window and points her out.

“Woah,” he breathes. His eyes light up the moment the find her, a grin tugging on the corner of his lips. “You named her after yourself?”

“I figured if men can do it what’s stopping me?” she asks, her eyebrow raised. Luke chuckles, his breath fogging up the glass. Lorelai looks back at the baby, watching her squirm around in her little cot, eyes blinking under the heavy lights, and once again her heart is so light it could fly. She leans towards Luke, like she’s telling a secret. “I might call her Rory though.”

“Rory?” he repeats.

“To avoid confusion. Plus, she responds to it.”

“Oh no she does not.”

“She does too!”

“She’s an hour old,” he reminds her. “The only thing she’ll want to respond to is whoever’s feeding her.”

“Watch,” she says, and she taps the class. “Rory. Rory, smile for Mommy. Smile for Mama, Rory! Aha, see!” She points at her, stretching up on her toes and giggling. “She blinked when I said Rory.”

“She’s ahead of the curve already,” Luke says. Her hand finds his and he pulls her against him, wrapping his arm around her body and letting her head rest on his shoulder. She smiles, content, and presses her cheek against him. Ever since she met him, Luke has been a beacon of safety above all else. Sure he makes her laugh, he picks her up, and she loves to wind him up, but she’s never felt so safe as she does when she’s with him, wherever they are. And as he rubs his hand up and down her back, his eyes warm, she finds that’s still true.

“I’m so proud of you,” he tells her. “I mean… look at what you did. Remember how scared you were when you came to my place?”

“I was terrified,” she murmurs. “I didn’t think I could do this.” She swallows. “Still don’t, really.”

“Well you can,” he tells her. She looks up at him, her doubtful eyes meeting his shining ones, and suddenly she believes it. Believes him. “Trust me, Lor, you can do anything.”

Something new comes over her at that, something almost giddy, fluttering in her stomach. A weight that she didn’t realise was there lifts off her chest, even more so when he rests his cheek against her head. Her eyes find Rory’s, still awake, silly girl, and they look at each other, her daughter’s mouth moving in wordless motions, her blanket wriggling as she tries to free one of her little arms, to grab something and shake it until she works out what it does.

And that’s when one thing becomes clearer than ever to her; she isn’t marrying Christopher. Not now, not ever.

******

Luke doesn’t leave until he’s practically dragged out by the nurses, and even then he has to double and triple check everything, make sure she has enough food, that her bed is comfortable enough, that she’ll be okay for the next few hours until he can came round again. Despite the impatient look on the nurses’ face and how much Lorelai sympathises with her, she secretly loves this, loves the care with which he handles her. Not as though she’s breakable or anything, just deserving of care.

Besides, while her heart is with the nurse, her mom is tapping her high heel on the floor and Lorelai lives for it.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” he asks again, his jacket half on his shoulders.

“I haven’t changed my mind in the past two minutes,” she tells him. Her hand darts out and grabs his just as he rises from the bed. She lowers her voice, trying to be as private as they can be with two pairs of eyes on them. Three, counting the bundle in the crook of her arm. “Thank you, Luke. For everything.”

“Hey,” he whispers softly. He hesitates for a moment and then reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. A warm trail follows in its wake like a shooting star on her face. “Of course. I’d do anything for you.”

Her cheeks turn pink at that. She’s lost for words, and it turns out to be okay, because Rory starts squirming at that same moment.

“Someone wants to say goodbye,” she teases. She tilts Rory slightly, letting her look at him, and her little pink lips open and fall into a circle before she blows. “She’s kissing Uncle Luke.” Luke laughs, light as a spring breeze, and he strokes her blanket.

“Goodbye for now, little Bambina,” he tells her. “Welcome to the world.” Then leans closer to her and casts a look to Lorelai that’s equal parts teasing and, dare she say it, loving. “Be good to your mom, okay? She loves you a lot.”

“Oh you sap,” she says, but her eyes mist over. He hugs her once more before he goes, long enough for her to melt into his embrace. She misses him when he goes, misses the feeling of his body against hers. He’s her anchor, and without him she’s left floating alone.

 _Not completely alone_ she remembers, and she adjusts Rory’s blanket.

“Well…” Her mother begins. She stalks over the window, heels bouncing off the linoleum and pretends to adjust the curtain. Lorelai studies her as she goes, trying to find something new. Everything there is familiar, so much she almost winces at it. Same stern features and tight shoulders beneath her spotless blazer, mouth kept in the same permanent frown it’s always been in, her stance still so cold, making the room feel bigger than it actually is. There’s nothing she doesn’t know or understand, which is why she can’t make sense of it. She must have been watching her more intently than she thought, because Emily turns to her with a flicker of annoyance on her face. “What is it?”

“You called Luke,” she says. “When I was in labour. He came, and he said you called him.”

There’s a pause as Emily digests what she said and then,

“Yes. Yes I did.”

“Oh.” Truth be told, Lorelai was sure she was going to deny it and insist Luke followed them here. Hell, maybe she could use that to get the retraining order she so clearly wants. She looks down at Rory, but her attention is still completely on her mother. “Didn’t realise you liked him.”

“Like him?” she scoffs. “Lorelai, why wouldn’t I like him?” She shrugs as an answer, and Emily tuts in response. Out of the corner of her eye, Lorelai sees her lean against the wall, her nails drumming on the windowsill and for the first time, Emily avoids her gaze.

“I know how fond you are of him,” she says after a while. “I thought with all you were going through; you could use a friendly face around. Someone to keep you calm because Lord knows no-one else here was able to.”

“Oh.” There’s a lot to unpack there. Mostly the implication of that last part, because unless she’s mistaken, and she doubts she is, Christopher is included in those who couldn’t keep her calm. There’s an accusatory undertone to what she said. Like she should be calmed by Christopher rather than Luke. It would look better for them, certainly, if it was him who had hugged her goodbye, rather than shuffled awkwardly and mumbled something about seeing her tomorrow.

What would people think, she wonders, if they saw her with Luke, the way she threw herself at him like he was her Prince Charming? Would they scold her for it? Would they pull him out of his arms and towards Christopher’s? Or would they care at all, about this small town boy who means more to her than they could understand?

Her cheeks suddenly grow warm, and she finds herself catching her breath.

******

Rory is just over a year old when she leaves. To be precise, she’s a year, a month and three days old. With a shock of dark hair and bright blue eyes that haven’t changed since the day she was born. It’s t hose eyes that are the reason she’s running, and the way she feels when she looks into them, completely clueless in the best way. There’s a spark in them, one that hasn’t been beaten and wrenched out of her by this world she was born into. And more than anything, Lorelai wants to keep it that way, which is why she sneaks downstairs while her parents are getting ready, Rory on her hip and her backpack it to burst. She puts Rory in her stroller, pulling the straps away from her as she clicks her in, and runs her finger down the side of her chubby cheek.

“I love you,” she tells her. She squeezes her hand then and Rory’s tiny fingers wrap around her fingers. This would be easier if she was asleep, but she doesn’t know how long it will be before she has this chance. Besides, maybe this will give her some good life skills.

She leaves the letter on the kitchen table before she leaves. She turns as she reaches the gate, and as she looks back at that house, an unexpected wave of sadness comes over her. Crouched behind the shrub, looks up at the top window, watching the silhouette of her mother picking out earrings. It won’t be long before she goes downstairs, calling for her, and then finds that letter. She’ll be on her way to Stars Hollow by then. She imagines her mother’s face, eyes growing wide as the reality settles over her, and a knife twists uneasily in her gut. She looks over at Rory, thinking again about how much she loves her, how she holds her entire heart in her impossibly tiny hands. And she has to ask herself how would she feel if it were her, coming down and finding her daughter has taken off without a word. Without even facing her. It would kill her. Worse than kill her. If Rory ever left her, she’d take her heart with her.

But then she shakes her head and reminds herself that she won’t have to worry about. Because whatever kind of mom she ends up being, she won’t push Rory like that. She won’t be an Emily Gilmore.

*****

She only crashes at Luke’s for one night.

William is more than fine with it, and Liz is enamoured with Rory. William drags out Liz’s old highchair and Liz talks baby talk to Rory all night, when she isn’t gushing to Lorelai about how cute she is.

“I can’t wait to have my own babies one day,” she tells her. “It looks so fun, dressing them up in all their little outfits and playing with their little toys.”

“It’s not all fun,” Lorelai says. Luke places a bowl of pasta in front of her, warm and steaming and oh so good, and shushes her before she can even protest.

“Don’t,” he tells her. “You’re eating that pasta whether you like it or not, Gilmore. You need it.”

“Yes sir,” she replies. She swallows a mouthful and it’s nothing short of heaven. “Collette has nothing on you, Luke.”

“Collette?” Liz asks.

“My mom’s maid.”

“I thought she was called Ingrid?”

Lorelai laughs, really laughs, for the first time that month probably.

“She got fired,” she explains.

Despite her insistence that she’d be fine on the couch, Luke drags her up to his room and practically forces her onto the bed. William goes above and beyond and gets out Liz’s old play cot too.

“Sorry I don’t have a proper crib for you,” he says. “Can’t think of what I did with it.”

“It’s fine, William,” she says as she lays Rory into it. The new environment confuses her, but then curiosity wins out and she’s exploring it like it’s a jungle. “See, she loves it.” William chuckles and turns to go, telling her if she needs anything just to shout. He claps her shoulder before he goes, and she feels everything he doesn’t say in it.

She sleeps in Luke’s bed, again at his insistence. Well, both of their instances. Hers that she can take the couch and his that he could take the floor.

“If I’m bugging you with my baby crying at 6am,” she tells him. “The least you can do is take the bed with me.” She grabs his arm and pulls him up, needing to use both hands and digging her heels into the floor. He could get up at any point he wants, he just doesn’t, and although he ducks his head she can see the gleam in his eye that tells her how much he’s enjoying this. “Or I could just make you take the floor.”

It’s nowhere near as awkward as she thought it would be. Not that they haven’t slept in the same bed before, but they were barely in their teens and nothing even meant anything. As she lays there, it isn’t lost on her that if her parents saw them like this, the implications would send them both to an early grave.

She falls asleep with a smile on her face and it’s the best sleep she’s had in months.

As she predicted, Rory acts as an alarm clock and goes off crying just as the sun is coming up. Lorelai pushes herself up, intending to pick her up and start their day, only to see Luke holding her. He rocks slightly as he holds her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear to soothe her, her little body against her chest, and she can’t get over how right it feels.

******

She survives, somehow.

Mia is tough, but she’s kind, and more importantly, Lorelai’s stubborn. It’s a beautiful combination, and one that means she walks away from the door of the Independence Inn with a job and a roof over her head even when she only wanted one of those things.

The place is nice. It’s tiny, but there’s only herself and Rory and the latter doesn’t take up too much space, so when they’re both curled up in their bed together, she doesn’t mind at all. Lorelai lives for those little moments, when she’s awake and Rory is long asleep, her chest rising and falling, those dark locks mussed and her cheeks puffed out. It’s in those moments that Lorelai falls in love with her all over again, and she’s yet to tire of it.

The work is tough, but she learns quickly that that’s the rule rather than the exception. It’s increasingly common for her to go home at night with aching feet and pains in her shoulders from carrying dishes around or pushing trolleys, not to mention the odd bruise from unfortunate encounters with doors. And that’s just the physical, one more than one occasion her chest has physically hurt from where she’s had to bite back screams at rude customers. Or gone home feeling like nothing, worse than nothing, when a man’s eyes have wandered over her body, the corner of his mouth curling up in the most unpleasant way.

Mia notices, and every time she has she’s threatened to throw the man out, often disguising it with a sweet voice and an even sweeter smile. Lorelai’s watched from the side-lines, beyond impressed and desperate to learn this skill, to make grown men squirm in their seats while maintaining an air of professionalism. She supposes she’ll learn in time, and Mia agrees when she asks her how she does it.

“Trust me, you’re halfway there already,” she tells her one night as they sip coffee in the back of the kitchen. “I see you out there. You command the rest of them like nobody’s business.” Lorelai blushes and grins into her coffee, not finding the strength to contradict her. “You’re clever, you are.” Mia lowers her eyes at that. “Sometimes I think too clever to be just a maid.”

“Now, now,” she scoffs. “There’s nothing just about being a maid. Besides,” she shrugs. “I like it here. A lot more than I might in some stuffy old college anyway.” She doesn’t know if it’s the truth, but she really likes how it sounds. She doesn’t want to dwell on what might have been if nothing had ever happened, if she and Chris had stayed where they were and she had gone off to her father’s Alma Mater to drown herself in debt with some degree. No point in dwelling on her parents lost dreams and all her lost potential. “It’s definitely a better learning experience here anyway.”

Mia chuckles and pours something brown into her coffee. After a moment, she offers it to Lorelai, and Lorelai doesn’t stop her. They clink their mugs together.

“I’ll drink to that,” Mia says. Lorelai swallows her coffee and squeaks at the burning running down her throat, followed by a musky aftertaste. She cranes her neck to look at the bottle, finding it being some sort of whiskey. Not the kind her father likes to drink. Mia doesn’t even flinch at it, just drinks like it’s normal coffee and eyes her curiously. “So Luke was up here last night.”

“You know about that?” Mia raises a knowing eyebrow.

“Nothing happens on this property without me knowing, kid,” she tells her. Lorelai lets out a breath, her cheeks warm. Must be the whiskey. He was over last night, which isn’t unusual. He’s over almost every weekend, and during the week when he can make it. It’s almost always the two of them in her house at the end of the lawn, just talking. Nothing more, just talking between friends, even if Mia’s expression would suggest otherwise.

She’s known Luke since before Lorelai ever did. Knows all his dirty secrets. Since his mom isn’t around, she supposes Mia is the next best thing, and maybe that’s why she’s so uncomfortable with the way she’s looking at her.

“He’s my friend,” she says before taking another sip of her coffee. “He’s my best friend.”

Mia hums in acknowledgement and her face softens.

“Do me a favour, Lorelai,” she says. “You know I love you. But just… try not to break his heart.”

She asks what she means by that. Mia just chuckles, cryptic, and squeezes her hand.

*****

One fine summer day, Christopher comes round. He calls the week before to arrange the visit, the conversation strangely formal between them. As she walks around the room on the phone, it becomes hard for her to believe that this is the same boy she dropped shameless innuendos with and draped herself all over on her parents’ balcony. Not when she’s taking notes like he’s a guest at the inn. It’s sad, she thinks as she hangs up. There’s not a lot she misses about Hartford, but weirdly, Chris is one of them. Not even romance, or sex, just being able to talk to him.

She spends the whole week deep cleaning the house. That house had never seen such a vigorous cleaning before in its life. Ever surface that can be vacuumed is vacuumed and those that can’t be are dusted and polished until she could eat her dinner off of them. Everything fabric is put in the laundry and she even springs for the nicer detergents when she goes to Doose’s. She buys one that’s lavender scented. Chris likes lavender right? His mom does, so he must, right?

“You’re going crazy,” Luke tells her. Rory is on his hip, dressed in her forth outfit of the day. Dressing her is a difficult process at the best of times, but today felt different. Everything she put on her felt wrong. It’s why Luke is here, why she called him and begged him to come down to the inn as a matter of emergency. Because she needed his opinion on Rory’s outfit.

“That statement may have some truth to it,” she says, but she doesn’t stop. She lays the table, covered in a red and white check cloth Mia let her take from the inn. There’s Tupperware boxes on the counter, another gift from Mia. Lorelai may not cook, but she’s not serving Chris take-out either. She’s giving him the finest the Independence can offer; soup, sandwiches, rolls, pie, all straight from the kitchens and so simple to prepare Rory could do it.

Maybe Rory should; her hands probably aren’t shaking the way Lorelai’s are.

She steps back and looks at the table again before turning to the rest of the room.

“It looks fine, Lor,” Luke tells her. “You going to tell me what this is about?”

“I’m entertaining a Hartford man,” she explains. “And Hartford men are extremely picky. I mean you’ve met my dad.”

“Yeah,” is all he says. She doesn’t know why she bothers lying to Luke. He sees through her like she’s made of glass. Or cheap off-brand tights.

She feels so stupid. Running around and trying to pretend they have a nicer life than they actually do. Scrubbing Rory until she’s clean and putting her in the clothes she normally only reserves for the grandparents. Organising and re-organising until the place looks like a doll’s house. She feels like she’s in grade school again, trying to make her project the best one. Trying to get a good grade in parenting class. Trying to make Chris see how wonderful Rory is. How much she’s worth sticking around for.

“Here, give me her.” Luke puts Rory in her arms and she shifts her onto her hip with ease. “Hey, Luke, could you do me favour and go pick up the iced tea from the inn? I forgot; it should be in a pitcher in the kitchen. Just ask Mia about it, she knows.”

“No problem,” he tells her and he skips out the door, leaving just her and Rory alone.

Rory is oblivious to the momentous nature of this occasion. She doesn’t even know who’s coming in just a few minutes. Nor how freaked out Lorelai is. All Rory knows is ‘Mommy’s holding me and she’s wearing a shiny necklace and I want it’.

Lorelai presses a kiss to her head. No matter what Chris says or does, Rory is loved. She’ll die before she lets her think otherwise.

 _Tap tap tap._ Lorelai jumps and turns around to see an unmistakably Christopher-shaped silhouette in the window. Her first thought is that she regrets asking Luke to go. If he were here now maybe she wouldn’t be spiralling so much right now. And more importantly, Rory wouldn’t be squirming around and whining at her suddenly constricting hold on her. She adjusts it and kisses her cheek by way of apology before heading to the door. She fixes her hair and tugs at her shirt before opening it. The pale pink one, the nicest one she took from her old house. Just for days like today.

“Hey,” Chris greets. He looks on edgy, completely out of place here, and the worst part is that Lorelai can’t really blame him. He’s just a kid, like her. He steps in and looks around, making a show o being impressed. “Nice place.”

“Oh you know, keeps us going,” she says. He nods, a tiny smile gracing his face, before he looks over at the real reason he’s here. And then his smile gets bigger.

She hopes that that no matter what happens between them, he’ll never stop looking at Rory like that.

“And hello gorgeous.” He holds his hand out to her and she takes his finger, fascinated by it. Their bodies are the closest they’ve been in the two years, but Lorelai doesn’t blush at it. She’s not entirely comfortable, but there’s no pull between them anymore. She’s disappointed, she guesses, but not really surprised. It’s been a rough time for both of them. “And how is this little girl doing?”

“She’s doing great,” she says. “She’s had her check-up recently and she’s doing good on all fronts. She has a whopping three words in her vocabulary. She’s sitting up on her own now. She likes food. She’s got a big appetite.”

“Well she’s your daughter,” he interjects.

“And she’s smart too. She’s good at puzzles. Well, little baby puzzles, but she’s still good at them. And books. She’s going to be a reader when she grows up. She turns the pages herself. No help from me needed.” She’s aware of what she’s doing, rattling off Rory’s achievements one after the other like she’s nominating her for something. Begging Chris to see how great she is. How worth sticking around for she is. “Oh, and you won’t believe this; she’s started walking on her own this time.”

“No way,” he says. Always up for a challenge, Lorelai places Rory on the ground and takes both her hands in hers. Rory moans briefly at losing her favourite spot on her hip, but her eyes light up when her feet hit the ground.

“What do you think Rory?” she asks. “Will we show him?” Rory looks up at her, and her face bursts into the most precious, heart-warming grin. She takes one step with Lorelai holding onto her hands, then another, and another again, before Lorelai loosens her grip. She told a teeny white lie to Chris-Rory isn’t entirely walking on her own. She can, she’s just not a fan of it. Which is normal for 15 months, or so she’s been told. So she lets go, but stays right behind her, hands poised to catch her.

Nonetheless, Chris is amazed.

“Oh look at you,” he says. He watches her with a breathless, tangible kind of excitement, and for a moment Lorelai considers that he might stay this time. Especially when he bends down to her level and claps his hands, motioning over to her.

“Come here, Rory,” he says. “Can you come here?”

“Can you go over to Daddy?” The word feels strange on her tongue, like it’s not meant to be there, but she swallows the feeling and chases her daughter. “Go on, go on Rory…”

Rory toddles along, clearly loving the attention, and stumbles into Chris’ ears, their two cheers louder than a Metallica concert. Rory claps along with them, giggling proudly even if she doesn’t know what’s to be proud of. Chris picks her up and places her on his hip, looking from one Lorelai to the other.

“Am I doing this right?” he asks.

“You’re a natural,” she says. Another teensy little lie. His hold is so unsteady she’s having heart palpitations just looking at it. “Here let me just…. There.” She steps back, her hands clasped in front of her. “Now you’re perfect.”

“Thanks,” he says. He looks over at her, the smile on his face uncharacteristically shy. “She’s beautiful, Lor. Really, she is.”

“I know,” she says. She takes a step forward, her hand on Rory’s back. There’s still no pull, and it does make her sad, but maybe she can create her own for Rory’s sake. They could make it work here. She thinks they could.

Especially when Rory opens her mouth and her forth word comes out.

“Daddy!” she chirps. Lorelai gasps, pride swelling in her chest, and Chris is utterly amazed. She’s never seen him cry before, but she thinks now he might be close. He looks over at her and back to Rory, his mouth hanging open and his eyes shining.

“And there’s word number four,” she mutters.

“Yeah,” Chris says, to Rory, not her, his voice catching. “Yeah I’m Daddy.”

But the moment is shattered after mere seconds, because then Rory frowns and lets out her most favourite word.

“No.”

And then the door opens, and Luke steps through it, pitcher of iced tea in one hand and confused expression on his face. Lorelai mentally kicks herself; she forgot he was even here. The joy starts to melt off Chris’ face, his eyes darkening at the sight of him, meanwhile an apology forms on Luke’s lips. Lorelai is caught in the middle, unsure who to apologise to first.

And Rory extends her arm, her finger pointed at him, and clear as a bell,

“Daddy.”

And Lorelai freezes. Chris freezes. Luke freezes.

And somewhere in Hartford, Emily Gilmore has a heart attack.

Some stuff might be said, Lorelai isn’t sure. All she knows is Chris puts Rory back in her arms and runs out the door, not even bothering to close it. She isn’t sure how to react, her brain still stuck on the sound of Rory’s ‘Daddy’, the look on Luke’s face.

“Hey, Lor.” His face is in her vision, not just her mind, and his arms are around Rory, prying her out of her arms. “Go. I’ll take care of her, go after him.” 

She shakes her head and blinks, her brain lagging even now, but then the events click into place and she realises fully what just happened.

“Shit,” she mutters.

“Go,” he repeats. “I’ve got her.” And he does, pressed tightly but gently against his body and his hand on her back. No need to adjust her there.

“Thanks.”

She runs out the door, Chris mor of a blob than a person until she starts running. As she gets closer, she sees his hands stuffed in his pockets, his head bowed and when she’s really close to him, the scowl on his face, the darkness in his eyes, and it hurts like a knife in her chest.

“Chris,” she pants. She trips over her feet as she comes to a halt, doubled over, her hands on her knees, heaving breaths. “You couldn’t have stormed off a little slower?”

“That’s the point of a storm-off,” he mumbles. He leans up against a tree and shrugs. “Why did you come after me, Lorelai?”

“I wanted-” The words catch in her throat, and she has to ask herself the same question. What is she doing? Trying to apologise? To assure Chris that he is Rory’s dad, no matter what? Because if he wanted that title, he could have tried sticking with her. “I wanted to talk, I guess.”

“To talk,” he repeats. “Talk about what? Talk about how my daughter just called another man ‘daddy’?”

“It’s not her fault,” she snaps. “She’s a baby, Chris, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She doesn’t even know what that word means!”

“I never said it was Rory’s fault,” he groans. He looks straight ahead, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side. He smirks, but it’s empty. “Maybe he deserves it though.”

“What?”

“Luke,” he explains. He looks at her and there’s something accusatory in his eyes and she squirms under it. “He’s around far more than I am, isn’t he?”

 _Yes_ is what she thinks.

“He lives here,” is what she says. “It’s easier for him.”

“He probably knows her better than I do,” he says. “Does he?”

She doesn’t answer, but as far as she’s concerned, it’s obvious. He knows Rory’s schedule as well as she does, knows which songs calm her when she’s cranky and which foods she likes and which blanket is her favourite and which toys will keep her occupied the most.

Chris shakes his head and scoffs.

“It should have been obvious. It was obvious, I was just in denial about it, I guess. Hoping that me and you…” He holds his hands up in the air, surrendering to something she doesn’t know. “I was stupid.”

“What should have been obvious?” she asks. She takes a step closer to him, her arms wrapped around herself. When she speaks, her voice is so careful, like she’s dancing around glass. “Chris… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t marry you. I couldn’t, okay? It was nothing to do with you. It was about me, and my parents, and Rory. You know all that, right?”

“Yeah I do,” he sighs. He’s quiet for a long time and she’s left waiting for something, preferably for him to tell her it’s okay. At least for him to agree to come back inside and try again. She’s prepared to shove Luke out if necessary. Instead, he asks a question.

“So it wasn’t about Luke?”

“Luke?” The idea is so ridiculous that she can’t help but laugh, even though the severity of Chris’ expression cuts it short. “No, it’s not about Luke. Luke has absolutely nothing to do with it. It was about me and it was about Rory.” She doesn’t realise she’s crying until she wipes at her face and her fingers come away black. “No-one else.”

“So it wasn’t about the fact that you’re in love with Luke?”

“That I’m WHAT?” Her voice echoes all around, up and down the perfectly manicured lawn and bouncing off the glass in the Inn’s French windows. She stuffs her shaking hands into her pockets and bites down on her cheek, her eyes burning into Chris’.

“I’m not an idiot Lorelai,” he tells her. “And besides what am I supposed to think when my daughter-mine-calls him ‘Daddy’? What am I supposed to make of that?”

“He’s my friend,” she tells him. But it feels flat somehow. “Nothing else. Just my friend. My best friend.”

“Oh.” And then he laughs. That asshole starts laughing at her and she’s got half a mind to kick him in the balls. “You don’t even know do you?” Fuck it, she decides, and she pulls her fist out of her pocket, ready to slam into his face until, “Well, he’s in love with you.”

She stops right where she is, like someone pushes the pause button on her. Air rushes out of her lungs like she’s just fallen down the stairs and she can only stand there, winded, as what Chris said settles over her.

Luke? In love with her?

Her? In love with Luke?

Why doesn’t that sound as crazy as it should?

“How the hell could you know that?” she asks.

“I’m a smart guy, Lor,” he tells her bitterly. “Smarter than my father gives me credit for. I know people, and I know that a guy who is ‘just a friend’ wouldn’t look at you the way he does.” Her knees almost buckle at that.

“No,” she whispers, whether it’s to herself or him she doesn’t know. “Luke is not in love with me. I am not in love with him. God, Chris you’re crazy.”

“And you’re in denial,” he says, and he shakes his head. “This was a mistake. Clearly, you’ve moved on with your life. I should do the same.” He moves slightly, as though to get close to her, but he pauses and steps back. “Say bye to Rory for me.”

“She’s a baby,” she says, but it’s half-hearted. She stays and watches as Chris goes, the shape of him getting smaller and smaller as he walks across the lawn. A voice in her head, one that sounds irritatingly close to her mother, tells her to run after him, but she stands still. He made his choice. Besides, she has bigger things to think about.

The worst part-is it the worst part-of that is that no matter what she thinks, she can’t definitively say that she isn’t in love with Luke. She tries, but her brain rejects it immediately, hissing two words that scare the crap out of her.

_You are._

They whisper it over and over again as flashes of her and Luke’s lives play before her eyes. Cuddling on his bed as they watched movies, sneaking him into her parents’ house parties, chasing each other through the Stars Hollow park. Him making her pancakes in her kitchen, the two of them on the gazebo trying to pick baby names. Her collapsing into his arms, frightened and shaken. And her head on his lap, swollen and heavy and scared and miserable. And him being there, making her feel like she’ll survive.

“Holy shit,” she shouts. Chris was right about her. Twice.

That begs the question, what about the third thing.

And despite how freaked out she feels, there’s a little excited spark in her belly, and pink grows up her cheeks.

He’s walking around the kitchen when she gets back, Rory on his hip. It even looks right, the bright grin on her face and the gentle adoration in his eyes, and she’s hit out of nowhere by how much she wants this. Him, around, with her. With both of them. It’s like Chris flipped a switch in her brain and now everything is different. 

“Hey,” he greets as she closes the door. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, fine,” she sighs. “I’ll be berated by my mom later for this, most likely. Or not, if he decides not to tell.” She shrugs, her fingers tapping against her arm. “I’m fine.”

“Lorelai,” he says in a hushed voice. “I’m so sorry. I mean, I should have just-”

“Hey I asked you to get that for me,” she says. “That stupid iced tea.” It’s sitting unopened on the counter now. “It’s fine, Luke.”

He nods, his fingers unconsciously rubbing circles on Rory. She’s so beautifully oblivious to everything, to the chain reaction she set off.

 _That’s my girl,_ Lorelai thinks.

“You know, I don’t think she meant it,” Luke says. Rory starts to squirm and he sets her down, letting her crawl off to chew off her teddy bear’s ear. “You know? It’s like she doesn’t know what that word means. She just heard it. You know, I’m daddy, you’re daddy, your dad is daddy.” He laughs, but there’s definite anxiety in it. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“Mm-hm.” Her chest tightens, her whole body seizes up as her heart hammers frantically. She thought she’d be able to come in and this whole thing could be sorted with a few words. She doesn’t think she’s capable of a few words. “I should go-”

“No,” she says, a little too quickly. Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, but he nods, slowly, his hand frozen midway to his jacket.

“Okay…” he says. He eyes her up and down and she feels so exposed, practically naked. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, and then she shakes her head at herself. If she’s going to do something, it has to be now. She doesn’t know when she’ll feel as strong as this. Surely it’s now or never. And even if she’s scared shitless, she’s going to try. She has to try. “No. I don’t know.”

“What did Chris say to you?” he growls. “I can catch up with him and set his whole ass straight if I need to.”

“No, no you don’t need to do that,” she says, her hand held up. She could rest it on his chest easily, and that idea leads to another, making her cheeks flame. She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “He said some stuff. About you. Me. Us.”

“Oh that bastard,” he huffs. “Well who cares what he thinks? Not like he knows us. I mean, like he knows me. He knows you, obviously. But he doesn’t know me and you.”

“Maybe he’s smarter than we thought,” she mumbles. Her heart is in her mouth. She can only remember one time in her life where she felt like this; telling her parents she was pregnant. She swallows the lump in her throat and takes a deep breath, her eyes screwed shut. “He said he thinks I might lo… I might have feelings for you.” Her nails dig into her arm, past her sweater and leaving imprints on her skin. “And… what would you do if I told you he might be right?”

She forces herself to look away from him, training her eyes on the patch of peeling paint on the corner of the wall. If she looks at him, she’ll either run away or jump on him. She doesn’t know which is worse.

“Lorelai?” She feels more than sees him moving closer to her, closing the already short distance between them, and she’s aware of every part of her body. “Lor, can you look at me?”

Shit.

She tilts her head towards him, her heart almost stopping in his chest. His expression is, for the first time since she’s known him, unreadable, and as far as she’s concerned that’s a bad sign. All at once, she fears she’s ruined it, them, ruined the best thing she’s had in her life, and she opens her mouth to apologise.

“Lorelai,” he says again, and suddenly his hands are on her hips. Her hands are on his shoulders and her pulse is drumming. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

She doesn’t, and his lips are on hers. The iron grip on her releases the moment he does, and she melts into his embrace, tangling her fingers in his hair. How could she have been so blind to this? To have loved him for so long, possibly her whole life, and never realised until now. Everything feels new now, her hands, her hair, her legs, her heart. Nothing feels the same now. It’s all new and different and undoubtedly better.

“Wow,” Luke breathes. He rests his forehead against hers, the pair of them breathless. “That was…”

“I know, right?” she whispers, and he chuckles. She realises then that him laughing might be one of her favourite sounds. She doesn’t know what she’d do without that laugh. “Why did we wait that long to do it?”

“Because we’re a pair of dumb teenagers?” he replies. “Never thought I’d say this, but thank God for Chris.”

“Well, there’s one perk to us taking so long,” she says, raising her eyebrow teasingly. He grins, and she presses her finger into the dimple at his mouth.

“Yeah? What’s that?” he asks. She toys with the hair at the nape of his heck, giddiness washing over her.

“We can make up for lost time.”

He laughs and kisses her again. He tastes like coffee and burgers, and safety. And home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave comments and kudos if you liked it xx (also the author is only on s5 so pls no spoilers in the comments)

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully part 2 will be up soon. also i have only started series 5 of gilmore girls as I'm watching for the first time, so please no spoilers :)
> 
> comments and kudos make a happy author and a happy author makes fics!!


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